


Something

by Imitari



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward, Crack, M/M, Multi, Mystery!, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imitari/pseuds/Imitari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's going on and Cullen hasn't a clue.  Well, he has several clues, but it doesn't make sense!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written while tired. Etc.

Cullen was coming to a conclusion that he wasn't certain he was going to like. The first clue had been Lelianna and Josephine sharing whispers in the corner of the War Room before an early morning meeting of the council. It wasn't the whispering as much as the sudden halt to the whispering when he entered the room and the undignified giggle Josephine had made upon seeing him. He had run a hand through his hair, wondering if perhaps it had become unruly, but it seemed normal. 

The next clue was from Varric, the dwarf inquiring as to Cullen's latest victory on the chessboard, laughing aloud when Cullen had described it as "glorious." 

The third clue was a rather bone-jarring slap on the back from The Iron Bull and a booming congratulations for his "latest conquests." He thought maybe he heard Sera call something naughty down from her room but his escape from the tavern had been swift.

All three incidents indicated that something was going on. Cullen hadn't the slightest idea what it was. He was fairly certain it couldn't be good. It was never good when half the castle was alternatively giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up or confessing they had "no idea." The final straw was a visit from Mother Giselle in his office, her advice a vaguely worded admonishment for some behavior he's positive he didn't do. Whatever happened last night, whatever people attributed to him, he couldn't have done. He'd been in bed. With a headache.

He was gaining another headache as he made his way to the Inquisitor's quarters, a few pages of information clutched in one hand. He sincerely hoped that Trevelyan would not offer him solitations. He was tired of saying "thank you" without knowing why.

"You look - stressed," observed Trevelyan as he accepted the papers. Cullen groaned and rubbed at his temples. Dorian, from his perch on the Inquisitor's couch, agreed, "More so than usual."

Satisfied that neither man shared the madness contaminating the rest of Skyhold, Cullen allowed himself to slump onto the couch. A moment of peace in the company of friends, his only sane friends, it seemed, was well deserved.

"What's the matter, then?" inquired the mage, setting his book aside, something heavy and thick with dust. Cullen shrugged as he inspected the ceiling, "I think the whole castle is under some sort of spell."

"Oh? Why would you think that?"

There was something in the tone of his voice that made Cullen turn his head to look and damn it all if both men didn't appear the slightest bit shifty. Trevelyan, especially, stood as if he wore a cloak of guilt. Cullen narrowed his eyes, "What did you do?"

"Do?" repeated Trevelyan.  
"Us?" asked Dorian.

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest, "You've done something."

"I would never 'do something,'" protested Dorian, hand to his chest in feigned affront, "I require clarification before action."

"Why?" coughed the Inquisitor, "Have, uh, people been talking?"

"I've received no less than a hundred congratulations and a slap on the back from Bull," stated Cullen, unable to keep the weariness out of his voice, "Which, and this is the conclusion I am forced to come to, the two of you must have something to do with."

"All this talk of 'something' is making me a bit peckish," said Dorian and he made to rise but Cullen cut off his escape with a hand to his arm. Dorian squawked and flailed as his butt returned to the couch cushions. Cullen held on and kept a firm glare on the Inquisitor, who was showing signs of breaking, his fingers twitching and his lips half parted.

"We, uh, might have had something to do with it," confessed Trevelyan. Dorian groaned, hiding his eyes behind a hand, while Cullen gestured that the Inquisitor continue. Trevelyan sighed, "You are aware that Dorian and I are ... Um."

"Together, yes," impatient for the answer, Cullen had forgotten to release Dorian. He felt more than heard Dorian's laughter as it began, a slow shaking of his body that grew in intensity.

"Maker, Dorian!" whined Trevelyan, "This is difficult enough as it is!"

"But it's so funny!" declared the mage and he turned towards Cullen, "The whole castle? Really?"

"Half at least," muttered the Commander. A fresh series of guffaws burst their way out of Dorian and Cullen was forced to release him as he curled into himself, caged by hilarity. Trevelyan, in contrast, had grown redder and redder in the face, his face so bright that Cullen began to fear for his friend's health.

"We, uh. That is ..." He struggled with the words, straining Cullen's patience and his headache, until Dorian had mercy on them both and said, "We had sex. Your name came up."

"What?" said Cullen.

"The windows were open," mumbled Trevelyan. 

"What?" said Cullen.

Trevelyan waved his arms in the air. "Maker, we were having sex and both of us ended up yelling out your name. It was loud. The windows were open. Alright?"

"What," said Cullen. Beside him, Dorian gasped for breath, "He's broken. You've broken the Commander of the Inquisitions forces, amatus."

"You've as much responsibility in this as I," retorted Trevelyan. Dorian just laughed some more, unrelenting tears streaking his cheeks. Cullen stared at him. And then at Trevelyan.

"Say 'what' again and I'll brain you," sighed Trevelyan. Cullen gaped, "But."

With another sigh, Trevelyan knelt at his feet, "We are together, Dorian and I. We're quite fond of each other. That is fact. Another, uh, fact is that we both ... Uh."

"Fancy you," smirked Dorian. Cullen swallowed, "Oh."

"So we were ... You know ... And then," Trevelyan rubbed at his neck, "And apparently the whole damned castle heard. Which is why we've been hiding in here."

"You've been hiding," corrected Dorian, "And pacing."

"Well, I'm worried! Why shouldn't I be? We talked about this, my love, and now we've gone and made Cullen," he indicated the Commander with his hand, "And we know you're not interested. It was ... foolish."

Cullen nodded. His head hurt spectacularly and he was no longer certain which way was up. Or left. Or right, for that matter. His friends, sex, his name and the whole castle thinking that the three of them had been doing ... That. Last night. When Cullen had been in bed with a headache much like the one he had now. His whole day had been about sex and he hadn't had a clue. All this time, alone and unaware and aching. He'd been right. He didn't like the conclusion. 

"I think," he said, "That ... I have a headache."

"Sex is good for that, I hear," replied Dorian, leaning back into the couch, mostly recovered from his fit of laughter. Trevelyan groaned and dropped his head. Cullen rubbed at his neck, "I ... Look, before we do anything else, could we close the windows?"

Trevelyan looked up and his eyes held the smallest glimmer of hope. It looked better on him than guilt. Dorian wiggled closer, laying a hand, magically cool and magnificent, on the back of his neck. Cullen groaned appreciation, tilting his head forward to expose more skin. Hands on his knees precluded at soft kiss to his brow and a whispered, "We will definitely close the windows, love."

"Thank the Maker," said Cullen.


End file.
